Soul Deep
by Abby Beabee
Summary: Lesbian.  This isn't one of your mother's romance novels. Oliver Reed is missing something.. she doesn't know exactly what that is until she meets Eliot Shields.  Started out as a paper for EN113 but wanted to continue. Give it a shot?   .


_**All of my stories, fact or fiction, are my own personal stories... I'm just new to fanfiction and don't know where to put them! D: So I'm guessing! Sorry if I make anyone angry.**_

_**I know you haven't met the character's of this story yet but fun fact:**_  
><em><strong>Eliot Shields - I'm stealing my current girlfriend's last name and they're probably going to share some similarities. Hope you enjoy!<strong>_

_**Oh... and if you do? Please review! I'd love to hear from you.  
><strong>_

Also sometimes I'm very liberal to change so if you have some polite suggestions on what I should do... for future chapters or maybe subtle changes to previous chapter just tell me and we'll see if it works! I may also ask for advice so keep reading?

I had visited this river bank several times. It seemed to me that with each time I came, nothing had changed. As often as I had frequented this place, I had begun to wonder why I had visited this dull and lifeless reservoir so often, but it was not until after we had met that I realized it was so i could view this romantic body of water through new eyes. Although nothing physically had changed, I had finally begun to see it for the true beauty it had held all along.

Before we met, this place had no name. It could have been any small restaurant beside a river bank. Nothing there had stood out to me as spectacular or unique in any way. The endless, boring river seemed to drone on and on with solemn complaints of having to hit the same grains of sand along the same tired but restless shore. While standing with my back toward the river, my feet just out of reach from the waves, I could have looked up to view the dull colored lights. They had all intentions of being festive, surrounding the roof's jagged edge of the small restaurant in a hopeless effort to attract more tourism. If I had felt the desire to, I could have walked the stained and splintered wooden steps up to the veranda to place an order for the same bland, tasteless food the chefs had served in this establishment for the past three years. While inside this quaint restaurant, a few selective customers would clumsily sway from side to side while they listened to music that seemed to stay at a constant, slow rhythm accompanied by a monotone melody.

Then we met. Our eyes had found each other, and I began to actually see. I had found that this place really did have a name. It was a simple four letter word that was often over used, but the meaning of it could still be found circulating warmly within the hearts of so many people. I had begun to call this place home. The river took on a spectacular glow that had nothing to do with the stars peering in at their own reflections. The waves swooshed against the shore as the water gently kissed the sand, like old lovers that would never be willed to part. My eyes glanced up at the soft light surrounding the edge of the roof and how they cast long, looping shadows on to the veranda. Time even seemed to establish itself differently. I could tell it had been exactly three years before we had met, lonely dinners with tasteless food, and now I could not count how many exciting dinners we have shared with wonderful delicate food and I would not want too. After our meals, we would walk to an open area and gently sway back and forth to the generous sound of music changing rhythm and tone that would run anywhere from the hum of a low base to the high trills of soprano.

The way I saw people had changed most drastically. I am ashamed to say that I used to look upon the young, care free lovers and judge them as if their act of loving had been a sin. Their actions had angered me, each brush across their lovers cheeks and each bubbly laugh. Like a jilted young school girl, I could recall my own jealousy. Their faces were all a blur, as if their personas were nothing. The only thing that mattered were the sins they were committing in being happy together. It wasn't until we met that I could let that anger go, and with each bubbly laugh we shared, I realized I was becoming a sinner, too.

It could never cease to astound me how meeting someone could have effected the way I would see and feel everything around me. Because we had met, the stars appeared to have found their shine, the rivers had found their lover, food had found its taste, and the lights received their color. Even the music had found its bravado, and the people found their significant others.


End file.
